COMMUTER'S WIFE 177 



silence was more disturbing than positive sound and 

 seemed to press upon the brain. I think the 

 present experience has taught me an intense pity 

 for the deaf, who in the midst of moving objects 

 must perpetually feel this tenseness and pressure 

 of silence. 



Outside was a world of snow which was three feet 

 deep on a level and everywhere billowed into fanciful 

 drifts. There were no paths, no fences; one 

 unbroken sheet stretched from the front door, 

 covering bank-wall, and road, levelling them with 

 the field beyond. 



It was impossible to open the east door, so 

 deeply was the snow heaped against it, and the 

 dogs cowered and refused to go out, even by 

 the back way, where the wind had left a bare 

 spot. 



Bertie had not appeared, and Tim with difficulty 

 fought his way in, bringing the milk pails, and 

 has remained here ever since. It was of no use to 

 attempt the breaking of paths while it was still 

 snowing, and an effort to free even the back stoop 

 was as foolish as the proverbial task of sweeping 

 the wind off the roof. 



Father tried to call up the hospital, but the tele- 

 phone was useless. The lack of church bells told the 



